The Hongou Chronicles
by BirdieGoBoom
Summary: Gentarou Hongou explains his reasons behind his original inspiration for creating the Nonary Game and his personality that has been twisted beyond recognition.  Based off of Uchikoshi's Answers and contains Original Characters.


****This story is based off of Uchikoshi's Answers to fans' questions about 999.****

****Rokka Hongou is an Original Character that belongs to the user AkumaRin.****

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><p><strong>The Hongou Chronicles<strong>

"Hey, Hongou. You've got a visitor. Come with me."

Gentarou Hongou looked up from the floor, not bothering to meet the other man's eyes. They would only appear the same as every other pair of eyes he'd pretended to see. "Who is it?" His words were half-hearted; Gentarou already knew the identity of his mysterious visitor.

"No idea," replied the guard, "but they must be pretty messed up in the head to come and see a wacko like you."

"…You can keep your opinions to yourself, thanks." Gentarou sighed, mildly annoyed. "Just do your job and bring me to the Visitation Room."

Without another word, the guard unlocked the door to the criminal's cell, and motioned for the other man to follow him down the hall.

…

"So," Gentarou began as he shifted to a more comfortable position in his chair, "you'd still come to visit me after everything that's happened?"

"No." The woman on the other side of the glass replied bluntly. "I would have chosen to live my life without ever seeing your face again, had I been able to. I am only here because I want answers."

Gentarou's mouth creased into a smirk. "Oh? And what makes you think I will give you these _answers_?"

"If you're not going to give me what I came for," the woman stood up from her chair and removed her golden bangs from her eyes, "then I will leave. Just keep in mind that you've turned away your daughter, who so graciously gave you a chance to redeem yourself. And not to mention, I'm probably the only visitor you will ever have. _Have a nice life_."

Her words stung; it was almost as if someone had pricked his heart with a thousand needles. Silently, he wondered how mere words could hurt him so, after all he had done. "Rokka, wait."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. "…If you're just trying to stall me with excuses, don't waste your breath." Rokka's tone was brimming with malice, and she glared into the depths of her father's eyes, though they could not register her face.

"Let's just get to the point, shall we?" He motioned for her to sit back down, for his story would be a long one. "Where should I start…?"

"The night you disappeared in 2009." She replied as she once again sat down in the chair opposite her father. "I want you to explain everything that happened so I can understand why you were never the same after you returned the next morning."

Gentarou let out a deep sigh; his eyes betrayed that he was experiencing a great inner struggle. "…I suppose that's fair, but I'll have to start…further back."

"Fine with me."

Gentarou leaned back in his chair and was silent for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. "When I was just starting Cradle, I found myself in need of money, and a lot of it. To make an unnecessarily long story short, all of the banks I visited denied me a loan due to the sheer amount of money I wished to borrow, and I was at a loss. It was then that a former colleague of mine told me about the Commonwealth Bank, owned and operated by Lord Cecil Gordain."

"The…Commonwealth Bank?" Rokka questioned, furrowing her brows. "The name sounds familiar. All of their loans were paid out in cash, directly from the owner's pocket, if I'm not mistaken."

Gentarou gave a slight nod. "That is…mostly correct. The bank's money came from a group of billionaires, not only from Cecil himself."

"I see… But why is that significant? Whether the money came from one rich guy or a bunch of them… What difference does it make?"

"So impatient, as always." Gentarou rubbed his temples and let out a sigh. "I'll get to it." He glanced beyond his daughter before continuing. "Anyway, I arranged a meeting with Lord Gordain. It was a short and simple affair, or so I thought at the time. The consultation took place in a small room, below the main floor of the bank. He asked me about my family as small talk while he took down my personal information. In return, he told me a little about himself and the bank. Cecil told me that the original founder of the bank was Lord Dashiell Gordain, and that he was the adopted son and successor to Dashiell. Apparently, Dashiell had taken him in his old age because he had no children of his own and wanted someone…trustworthy as his heir."

"Sounds like a load of crap, but whatever." Rokka interjected. "People like that simply _cannot_ be trustworthy. Saying so is just a bad facade."

"Of course, it's more obvious looking back on it now than it was to me then. Desperation… clouds your mind, you see. But whether or not he was trustworthy has no relevance; the names are the important part. Now, if you want me to finish my story before visiting hours end, I would advise that you stop interrupting."

Her father's words angered her, but Rokka had to admit that he was right. The story was a long one, and she needed to hear the end of it to ensure that the hours she would spend sitting across from a prisoner would be worth something.


End file.
